Thursday, August 6, 2009

Holy mackerel, a burned-out writer!

Uh-oh.

I'm still still phoning it in from the land of genera Culex as this week crawls to a close, and too damned skeeter-bit to dig into anything novel, or write that in-depth post about the transcendent songwriting genius of Sport Murphy. Which I will do, sometime.

This hasn't been a typical year; in years past I've been a lot more cognizant of new music and new bands. These days, because I no longer seem to be writing about music for local publications (with the exception of Midtown Monthly, which tapped me to write this little stumble down memory lane), I've kinda fallen out of the discipline of checking out new sounds, a dedication I'd developed in fits and starts over two and a half decades, and the whole world isn't beating a path to my door to ask me what I think about its new music.

Anyway, some words later when there's more time and inspiration, maybe?

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